Good Men Must Die
by Circlique
Summary: Im Sang Kyu has been sent to kill a Russian agent, Ivan Braginsky. Unfortunately for him, the man he's been sent to kill has also been sent to kill him. Russia/North Korea. Spy AU. Oneshot.


Ivan was in no hurry.

He'd settled himself in at a bar—a hole-in-the-wall place in the backstreets of Beijing. He was here on a mission. An assassination one, to be specific. He'd been told his target, a certain Mr. Im Sang Kyu (if that was really his name) had an affinity for this little place. Ivan could see why. It was perfectly tucked away in Beijing's darkest corner, frequented mostly by gangsters and drug dealers—people who had reasons to keep their identities, schedules, and business a secret.

And of course, there was the liquor.

Ivan ordered another shot of vodka and settled himself in for what could be a long night. There was no guarantee his target would show up, after all. However, Ivan had a feeling he would, for he'd also been tipped off that he was on Mr. Im's hit list. An agent of the North Koreans, Mr. Im was an assassin himself. His latest mission had been to steal Russian nuclear secrets—a mission in which he had succeeded, with the blood of several Russian scientists on his hands.

For that, he must die.

Apparently, Mr. Im liked to stop by here before heading out on an assignment. All Ivan had to do was wait. The Korean would come by for his usual drink before heading out to Moscow, only to find that his target was already right in front of him. Then Ivan would cross him off. The location was perfect. In such a rough part of town, surely bar brawls were nothing uncommon. With Ivan's brute strength, it should be easy.

As for why he was on the Korean's hit list? He had no idea. Maybe he'd have a chance to ask before crushing his neck.

He downed his shot of vodka, relishing the sharp burn on the back of his throat.

The bells on the door jingled as it opened. Ivan glanced up.

It was him.

Ivan had memorized his face from a picture he'd been given before leaving Moscow. He was surprisingly young—barely 20—but his face seemed to attest to years of hardship, with features sharp-cut from hunger and dark circles under his eyes. His hair was messy and longer than Ivan had seen on any other North Korean, but it was almost certainly that way to help hide his identity. He was dressed simply, but darkly, in black, and looked right at home among the other rough characters of the bar.

He looked right at Ivan and, almost certainly seeing the recognition on the Russian's face, turned and walked right back out.

Ivan smiled. He always did like a good chase.

He quickly paid off the bartender, then headed for the exit.

Upon stepping outside, he saw nothing. The alley was dank and dirty, and night had fallen, leaving much of it obscured in shadow. A perfect place for his little friend to hide. He proceeded into the shadows, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

But so focused on the nooks and crannies of the alley, he was a little more than surprised when something dropped onto his shoulders from an above fire escape.

Oh, clever.

The Korean was small and agile, having easily climbed up onto the fire escape in such a short amount of time. Then he'd simply waited for Ivan to come along and dropped down on to him.

Now Ivan found himself stopping the knife just centimeters from his neck. Grunting in frustration at having an easy killing stopped in its tracks, the Korean used his wiry strength to push all his weight against the knife, hoping to overpower Ivan's arm and drive the knife in.

But, Ivan wasn't going to allow that. Grabbing the Korean's stabbing arm, he pulled the other forward and threw him over, slamming his back down onto the concrete. Then he went for the knife, hoping to disarm the other as soon as possible.

However, the Korean wouldn't be outdone so easily. When Ivan grabbed his arm, the Korean pulled him forward, then twisted his body around to sweep Ivan's legs out from under him with his own. Already off-balance from leaning over so much, Ivan easily fell, and soon found himself trying to throw the other off his chest. The Korean stabbed downward with the knife once again, only to find that Ivan was more than strong enough to stop the motion dead. And this time, Ivan grabbed the hand with the knife and gave it a sharp twist, grinning when the Korean cried out and dropped it. Hopefully he didn't have another.

Now Mr. Im Sang Kyu was stuck with one hand in the Russian's strong grip and (hopefully) no weapon. Seeing his predicament, the Korean went for Ivan's other hand, trying to pin it down with his other hand and a knee. But now unstable, he was easy enough for Ivan to push up and throw off.

They both got to their feet, but before the Korean could attack him again or draw another knife, Ivan lunged at him, trying to grab him. But, as he soon discovered, trying to catch the small, agile Korean was like trying to catch a shadow. Sang Kyu easily outmaneuvered him, ducking under his arms and trying to come up behind him. Clearly Ivan wouldn't be able to catch him at close range. If he didn't fear attracting unwanted attention in a busy city like Beijing, Ivan would have simply shot him. But since he also wanted a chance to talk to his target, he couldn't end it that quickly either.

Spying a segment of rusty pipe near the wall, Ivan grabbed it, thinking it could give him a little more attacking range and keep the Korean from running circles around him so easily. Next time he saw the Korean come at him from the darkness, he swung the pipe, only just missing as the Korean pulled back. Now Ivan had him on the run. He swung again, smiling as the Korean stepped back to avoid it. Just once more. He swung again, and the Korean had his back to the wall. From there, it only took a quick movement to shove him up against it, pinning both wrists above his head and holding them with a single, large hand.

Now he had him.

"Im Sang Kyu," Ivan purred, grabbing the Korean's chin with his free hand to force the other to look at him. "North Korea's best. You put up a good fight."

"Ivan Braginsky," the Korean hissed. "Clever. You knew to find me here."

"Oh, good. You speak Russian," Ivan smiled. "I feared I might be talking to myself."

The Korean started to squirm, so Ivan pressed himself closer. "Ah! We're not done yet. I have some questions for you."

The Korean's eyes narrowed.

"Why were you sent to kill me?" Ivan asked, continuing to hold the Korean firmly.

"You killed one of our associates," Sang Kyu responded, holding Ivan's gaze.

"Oh?"

"A friend of the North Korean people."

"His name?"

"Wang Yao."

Ah, yes. Wang Yao. Quite a smart man, he'd been. At least until he began selling Russian secrets to the Americans. For him to have been a friend of the North Koreans, it must have gone the other way too, the Chinese man being more than happy to sell American secrets to them. If he had chosen to sell them to the Russians instead, maybe he could have lived.

"He sold Russian secrets," Ivan said simply. "You would know something about Russian secrets too, yes? Your leaders sent you to steal nuclear secrets. And you killed Russian men to get them. Good Russian men. My leaders were very displeased. Now your leaders will pay by losing a good North Korean man. You know what happens now, yes?"

"Get on with it, you lumbering pig," the Korean snarled.

Ivan simply grinned, releasing the Korean's chin and picking up the pipe once more. "Oh, not yet. I quite like you. I think you and I can have some fun for just a bit longer."


End file.
